Chapter Text
Chloe’s not sure what grabs her attention the first time she meets a demon besides Maze, in their own form instead of possessing a human, but something does: a sixth sense of sorts must ping for her. Before Lucifer looks over a few seconds after her, her eyes lock onto the man walking into the precinct. He’s tall and broad, taking up an entire side of the staircase, but it’s not his height that keeps her eyes on him. It’s the way he moves his head, looking around, not for someone in particular, but warily—as if for a threat. His eyes don’t settle anywhere, but they track each person for at least a split second, nostrils flaring as if to remember them by scent more than sight.
As Lucifer turns around, she realizes the man’s gaze has touched everything and everyone in the room except for Lucifer and herself. Seeing as he’s heading straight for them, she doubts it because he overlooked her desk. No, it’s as though he doesn’t need to even look at them to know they are there, to know who the biggest threat is.
Lucifer stiffens next to her before he stands, hands in his pockets. His posture is looser, but somehow his strength seems more prominent. In response, she automatically stands as well, her gaze moving between the suddenly more imposing Lucifer and the person coming towards them.
She understands just as he reaches them and his eyes meet Lucifer’s. “Lord,” his voice is gruff and blunt, but softer than she expected. He’s easily a few inches taller than Lucifer—which would be impressive—if, despite his size and bulk, Lucifer didn’t still have a much bigger presence.
“Grun,” Lucifer replies. His smile is practiced and insincere, but not angry or worried. “What on Earth are you doing here?”
“Problems in the Palace, Lord,” he says, flatly enough Chloe isn’t sure if there actually is a problem. “Hessry sent me since I’ve been in the lower levels recently. Fuller picture, he said, I could give you.”
“Of course, I do so enjoy speaking with those in on the action,” Lucifer’s smile widens, but he’s spoken like a man who’d rather hear anything than what he was about to. "Out with it, what's the princely pissing contest about today?"
The demon actually cracks a smile for all his voice stays level, "Territory, Lord." He pulls out a leather folder Chloe hadn't even noticed him carrying, though how, she has no idea. It looks comical in his hand what with Grun looking like a grouchy biker and the folder looking like it belongs on the desk of a rich professor. Withdrawing a single sheet of thick paper, he points, "New lake formed between Orse and Vuala."
To her surprise, some of the building tension dissipates when Lucifer groans, obviously recognizing the names as he accepts the map. "Every time I think I don't get along with my siblings I remember those two. Speaking of which, any message you'd like me to pass on to Mazikeen?"
"You're Maze's brother?" Chloe asks, unable to keep the question to herself. She looks him over with new eyes. She’d thought the similarities between them that she’d been picking up were general demon traits, not familial ones.
Grun turns to her and nods. "Younger brother."
"And she never lets him forget it," Lucifer says with a more genuine laugh.
Grun pulls out a wicked looking piece of iron that she can only tell is a weapon because of how pointy the one end is. "She left this behind. Tell her I want a case of tequila for not tossing it in a red smoker."
"Naturally," Lucifer replies, pocketing the item. "And I take it those two have been disagreeing on how to divide up the new lake?"
"Yeah, they keep sending missives to your attention with my name on them since I was there when it formed," Grun elaborates. “This is the fourth today. Hessry sent me to get your seal on a final territory map just so we could work on everything else on our plates in peace."
While Lucifer opens up the letter Grun offers, Chloe finds herself commenting, "You seem to enjoy paperwork a bit more than Maze does."
Grun shrugs. "Works out well when you tag team if you pick a partner who picks up your slack." Then he nods at her desk. "You must like it, if he's your partner."
Chloe laughs, while Lucifer closes the letter to level a glare at Grun, who merely stares back. "No respect these days."
"I wouldn't say I like paperwork, but I can do it, unlike Mister 'I'm allergic to red tape' over here," Chloe says, patting Lucifer's shoulder.
"It's so boooring," Lucifer complains, folding up the letter. He gestures with it to emphasize his point. "And so's this—tedious and stupid enough to annoy even you, which was something I never thought I'd see."
Grun doesn't answer and instead just gestures with the folder. "Hessry drew up a few different maps and says pick one so they'll shut up."
Lucifer turns toward Chloe and can't help the smile that spreads across his face just from looking at her. “Detective, do you have a room I might borrow to finish talking to Grun? Won’t be more than a few moments, I assure you.”
“Sure,” Chloe says with a nod and a smile. She leans down to check the booking system and ignores the way Lucifer’s eyes immediately go to her ass. “Interrogation 4 is open.”
“Lovely, shall we?” he gestures the demon in the right direction. Grun begins heading where directed as Lucifer lopes behind him. “You'll help me choose, won't you Grun? I'm sure no matter how completely aggravating those two have been, you'll be unbiased, right?”
“Of course, Lord,” he replies, his voice incredibly dry. Watching the pair, Chloe wonders if that’s a thing in Hell, that those with lower rank have to present their back to those above them as a show of trust or if it’s merely a mark of privilege that Lucifer can demand such a concession.
Somehow, she doesn’t think Lucifer would want her to ask. He doesn't like to talk about Hell, which yeah, she gets to an extent. But it’s starting to hurt, just a little. Like he doesn't trust her enough to confide in her. He’s told her more since he returned, enough to reassure her that he’ll never have to leave for so long again—scant details about putting down demon rebellions, fixing the barrier, and managing the time difference. It did help to hear all that, but she wants to know more.
Because Hell is a huge part of Lucifer's past and his life now so she doesn't like it being kept from her. She just doesn't know how to repair that damage—damage she caused with her initial reaction—but she hopes time will help. That she can show him by accepting him, by listening and not over reacting—by trusting what he tells her and letting him see that, so one day she knows that side of him just as well as she knows all other sides of him. One day he won't be too wary to tell her.
Because she loves him, all of him, and she needs him to know that at least someone does.
-/-
She’s coming down her apartment stairs, nothing on her mind, but getting some coffee started when she sees Lucifer, sprawled out on her couch. He's got a clock in his hand, as if he’d checked the time and decided it was too early to wake her only to pass out from exhaustion while waiting. The consideration is unexpectedly sweet and absolutely unneeded, speaking to his unwarranted concern regarding how welcome he might be given how they left things.
Chloe's breathing stops at the picture he makes in her home. Before she realizes it, she's kneeling down next his sleeping form, eyes hungrily tracing all of his features, noting what has changed and what hasn’t. He's wearing a suit similar to the one he’d left in, except the vest is red to match the handkerchief. His jacket is draped over the back of the armchair and his shoes are on, his feet still planted on the floor. He looks as though he had sat down to wait for her to wake up and just slowly fallen to the side.
His hair is a little longer that he usually wears it and his face looks pale and drawn, even in his sleep. He's hugging the clock to his chest and has folded himself around it. He looks so much younger and so much more tired than she has ever seen him. But he's whole, and he's here.
He looks unreal, not the least of which is merely because he is here, in her home. He left her on his balcony months ago and all she’s had of him since are dreams, dreams which were only comforting because she could pretend that he was still okay, could remind herself he wasn’t dead, even if he was in Hell. She's tried so hard to pretend everything is fine, to pretend that he's going to come back if only for her own sanity. It’s not until she sees him here that she realizes how much that hope had meant to her and how far-fetched she'd thought it was deep down. She's specifically avoided asking Amenadiel when Lucifer might return because the pity in his eyes every time he looked at her enraged and wounded her too much to hear the answer.
Chloe feels as though if she touches him, he'll fade away—or she'll wake up. He looks as though he needs the sleep too, but she needs to hear him, to have him open his eyes and look back at her, more. Carefully, when she can bear it no longer, she gently lays a hand on his arm. The warmth of his skin bleeds through the fabric easily and he feels so wonderfully solid under her fingers.
He inhales sharply and his eyes open up, flaming red pupils and irises surrounded by black. Her eyes widen in response, but she doesn’t move back, her eyes locking on his own. He blinks once, head moving back as he clearly tries to place where he is and who he's with. Another blink and his eyes are brown again, full of wonder as they soak her in—like a man dying of thirst in a desert, who doesn't trust the oasis, but can't help himself from reaching for it.
“Detective?” his voice is rough from sleep, but unmistakably his own. He sounds as though he too thinks this might just be an impossible dream. He sounds as if what Maze said was true—like it’s been years and years since he last saw her.
“Lucifer,” she breathes before she throws her arms around him, burying her face against his chest and holding on for dear life. He sits up and back a bit, but pulls her with him desperately. Neither of them heard the sound of the clock abruptly hitting the floor as they cling together. “You’re back, you’re back.” She can't stop repeating those words as she holds him.
“I’m here,” he replies, face buried in her messy hair, tucked into her neck. Her hands end up on his back, clutching him close.
“How long?” She hadn’t wanted to spoil the moment so soon, but the question bursts from her without her consent. She needs to know before her heart starts stitching itself back together if it’s only going to be torn apart again. "How long can you stay?" She leans back, needing to look him in the eye when he answers her.
He looks so heartbroken that she can already feel her hopes crumbling when his hand cups her face and he wipes away a tear that's already fallen, "Oh Chloe, I am back. I can live here again, if you'll have me." The hope finally starts to take root in her heart as she stares at him disbelievingly.
Lucifer seems to notice and he cautions, honest to a fault, “I’ll have to go back, every once in a while—for business trips, of a sort,” Lucifer says, his voice wary, as though she might say that isn't good enough. He pulls back from her reluctantly, hands dragging across her as if letting go is the last thing he wants to do, but he worries she might need some space and is trying to give it to her. “Never more than a few days at a time. If that's alright?”
“But, but you’ll come back after?” Chloe asks, breath caught in her chest as she tries not to get ahead of herself, as she tries to figure out how happy she's allowed to be. "And not—not this long, right?
Lucifer nods immediately—eagerly. “Yes, I never want to be parted from you for this long ever again.”
Chloe shakes her head in disbelief, tears gathering in her eyes again, but before he can apologize, she throws her arms back around him. “So you’re home? You’re really home?”
“Yes.” Anything else he's going to say is cut off by the inelegant, but heartfelt kiss she places on his lips. He abandons his words to kiss back just as wholeheartedly.